


Home Is Where The Hearth Is

by oraceon



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Korean Religion & Lore, Light Angst, M/M, Romance, Slice of Life, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2020-08-10 03:15:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20128447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oraceon/pseuds/oraceon
Summary: Desperate for a change of scenery, burned out novelist Byun Baekhyun moves to the countryside in hopes that inspiration will finally strike again. Little does he know that the supposedly vacant home his grandparents left him isn't so empty after all, and he may be in for some divine intervention.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! If you know me at all, its either through twitter or as a regular writer in the baeconandeggs fic fest every year, and... not much else. I made a promise to myself to change the fact that I barely have any works on here that didn't sprout from some sort of prompt which was provided for me, and this was the original idea of my own that I decided to pursue first. Keep in mind, I have not written a fic without an external prompt in over 2 years, nor have I ever fully committed to a chaptered fic before, so I'll just be doing what I can and hoping for the best. I will try to update at a rate of one chapter every 1-2 weeks, however this is subject to change depending on my life and whether any ideas come to me.
> 
> As you can see from the tags, this fic and the central idea behind it are heavily inspired by and based on Korean Shamanism, the native religion of Korea. I would like to add a disclaimer that I am not Korean myself nor do I practice the religion, however I find the concepts fascinating and am working hard to research everything thoroughly. If I make any mistakes please let me know and I'll do my best to fix them. That being said, please do not use my fic as an education tool on Korean culture and shamanism in particular - I recommend you dig a little deeper yourself, as it's very interesting! I will be taking some liberties with the legends and folklore, just a heads up.
> 
> That's about it! Thanks and enjoy <3

Spring, like all the best things, arrives unannounced. Plants return to life once more, new leaves stretching to greet the sun. Animals emerge from their sleepy winters to the break of a new dawn, as humans rub the dreariness of those grey months from their eyes. For many it's a time for new beginnings, budding romance and family ties.

For Baekhyun, it means oncoming allergies and, worse, even more emails from his agent about the deadline he's been avoiding. With a sigh he closes the tab of his inbox, steadily filling up as the days go by, and shuts his laptop, turning his unfocused gaze to the rolling hills flying past the train window.

The move had been planned relatively in secret - his friends had agreed to a vow of secrecy, and he didn't even let his family know until he was almost out the door. Nobody at work knows anything about this, and it's probably for the best that things stay that way. After all, it's only a temporary thing, and he's doing it for the sake of his work anyway.

The train is pretty empty, having unloaded most of its passengers at previous stations already. Baekhyun hasn't experienced solitude like this outside of his own home in a long while; even so, there's still the noise of the tracks and the occasional stir of conversation among other passengers, just as he would hear the outside traffic and rowdy neighbours through his apartment walls. Where he's going will have none of that, only silence.

He never thought he'd be one of those writers so affected by their surroundings that he'd need to isolate himself to write. He never had to, in the past.

The train begins to slow, and Baekhyun rises, reaching for his suitcase from the luggage rack and bringing it down next to him with a huff. It seems he's the only person getting off here, and when he steps off the train and onto the platform, no one follows.

It's a tiny station, only serviced by one line running both ways, and by the looks of the dilapidated signage and the tendrils of foliage winding around the tiny ticket booth, in which an old man slumbers as if part of a daily routine, it hasn't received any visitors in a long time. Aside from the station itself, green and yellow pastures extend as far as the eye can see, rice swaying softly in the gentle breeze blowing west to east. Across the road which Baekhyun now approaches, a few cows graze lazily, the young ones still wobbling a little as they learn to walk.

There's only one taxi standing outside - both its make and the peeling condition of its paint seeming straight out of the 80s. Baekhyun ducks his head a little, just about able to see am elderly gentleman steadily asleep at the wheel. He taps on the window a few times, and on his third knock the man starts, turning to lock eyes with him.

At first the man looks at Baekhyun with utter confusion, only to then remember why he's there and what his job is. As the door locks click open and Baekhyun manages to shuffle in, the driver watches him cautiously through the window, more surprised than happy at the prospect of finally having a passenger.

"Where to, son?" The man's drawl and the twinge of his country dialect makes understanding take an extra moment, but when it happens Baekhyun brings up the address on his phone, showing the screen to the driver.

"Is it ok," he asks when the man continuously squints at the device in his hand without providing a reply of any sort.

Eventually the man nods, turning the key, and the engine sputters to a start. Baekhyun stares out the window, watching as rice farms give way to wilderness, the houses getting further apart the longer they travel. The radio is playing some old trot music station, though at a very low volume, so when the taxi driver speaks he can be easily heard. "You knew Ilsung and Soonja?"

"I'm their grandson," Baekhyun says, a little surprised at the sudden conversation.

"Is that right!" His voice perks up. "Which one are you then, the older or younger one? Ilsung used to tell me all about you boys back when we used to play go-stop on Sundays," he says, now fully in his wits and smiling at Baekhyun occasionally through the mirror.

Baekhyun smiles back, "the younger one," he says. He introduces himself - his name, age, and what he does for a living - though he does feel pretty awkward now that he doesn't remember his grandfather saying anything about this man - how could he, when he had passed away when Baekhyun was just about starting school.

When he mentions that he's an author, the driver's face sets into one of realisation. "I knew you looked familiar, you've been on TV, haven't you? I do remember Soonja mentioning something about a book a few years back but I didn't make the connection."

Shifting a little uncomfortably in his seat, Baekhyun confirms it. "Yes. I've written a few novels now but the first was the only one that really went anywhere. I'm actually moving to the house so I can write where it's peaceful."

"That house is the perfect place for that," the driver says, tapping his index fingers on the steering wheel rhythmically. "You might not remember it very well, but it was a real beauty. Soonja took good care of it even after Ilsung was gone, but it needs some fixin' up after all this time. I hope it'll see better days with you there now," the man laughs. He's staring straight ahead, but Baekhyun can catch a glimpse of a nostalgic smile on the man's face.

The longer they travel, the further apart the houses appear. Baekhyun reminisces how the journey between the station and the house used to feel like forever as a kid, but now he's surprised that it only takes about half an hour to get out there. High leafy arches frame the familiar short iron gate, now looking significantly more rusty than he remembers. He hands the number on the meter to the driver, but receives a grin and 5000 won back along with an amateurish business card.

"Family discount for you, son," he says, still cheesing. "The convenience store is just a half an hour walk from here, but dont hesitate to phone me if you need anything, alright?"

"Yes Mr Jung," Baekhyun smiles awkwardly, pulling his luggage out and bending his back a little to be able to peer in through the car window.

"Please, don't be so formal. At least call me ahjussi?"

Baekhyun nods, itching to get inside the house already. "Ok, Jung ahjussi. I'll make sure to call you if I need you." This seems to finally be enough for the man, who nods towards Baekhyun once more before departing. Baekhyun lets out the breath he's been holding all this time in a heavy sigh, turning to the house - already his through his inheritance, and for now, his place of residence.

It's a traditional Korean style home, the type that in Seoul are now relegated purely to being tourist attractions. Even in the countryside, many had let their homes go through redevelopment, transforming their hanoks into modern homes with all the amenities expected in 21st century living. His grandmother, always a stickler for tradition and stubbornly superstitious, had refused the offer, living out the rest of her days in the home that had been part of her family for generations.

Ducking under the wooden beam awning which framed the entrance, slipping his shoes off before stepping up onto the smooth hardwood, Baekhyun recalls his childhood years. He would run around these same halls, or stretch his legs out on the cool stone of the inner courtyard as his grandmother de-stemmed the strawberries she had just picked from her garden. The courtyard now is being invaded from all sides by foliage, bees making busy work of the flowers that sprout from the vines in various angles. Lily pads float amongst algae in the pond, and Baekhyun thinks that cleaning out the waters and repopulating them with fish will be his first order of business.

He stops outside the door of his late grandparents' room. He can't quite bring himself to enter, despite having gotten over the pain of his loss a long time ago already. Instead he drops his bags off in the guest room, which hadn't changed at all since he had last visited, save for the dust collecting on every visible surface. Checking the switches and the bathroom, he's relieved to know that the electricity and water both still work. The kitchen, however, is a worry; Baekhyun is already a lousy chef, but his grandma was a great one, that too using incredibly traditional utensils and appliances. Ones that Baekhyun has no experience with. When he enters the room his grandmother had loved to spend so much time in, he suddenly feels a very strange sensation, like a clogging of the back of his throat. The hair on the back of his neck prickles slightly. He's wondering whether there's something in here that's triggering an allergic reaction when something catches his eye.

A plain white bowl, placed upon the hearth with some strange importance, had collected plenty of dust over the years. Baekhyun winces, wiping away most of the fluff with a tissue before emptying the near-empty bottle of water he'd been carrying into the container for good measure, just in case there were any stray stains in there.

"It's going to take an absolute age to clean all this up," he sighs out loud, already regretting what he's gotten himself into.

For a moment, he swears he can hear a distinctly human "tsk". It makes no sense of course, since he has been the first visitor to thus house since his grandmother's funeral all those years ago.

The noise keeps getting louder, until suddenly the bowl on the hearth shakes in place, enough to be noticeable but not enough for the water to spill out. "Who's there," he shouts, getting to his feet.

A voice lingers in the air, getting weaker and then strong again like some sort of strange radio signal. It's strangely formless, not to mention androgynous, but as the words become more clear the sound settles into something more distinctly masculine. "Such a meagre offering to be greeted with after so many years," the voice says, and now it has a direction.

Baekhyun flips around to the source, seeing the last thing he'd expect.

A tall man stands in front of the hearth, his very traditional hanbok vibrant in its crimson red and earthy browns. His hair is similarly archaic, pulled into a top knot though with some long black locks left to flow freely. His fingers trace the rim of the bowl in concentration, even as Baekhyun stares in shocked silence, until eventually his eyes flicker towards him. "You can see me?"

The question surprised Baekhyun for a moment, but he quickly regains his composure, now turning into anger. "Yes I can see you. I don't know if this is a prank or something, but you'd better get the fuck out before I call the police."

"You see me, so you must believe in me. And still you have the audacity to curse while in this room?"

The stranger takes a step towards Baekhyun and he retreats, his back hitting the countertop. He reaches behind him, grabbing a knife from the rack behind him. "Don't come any closer," he says, putting as much intimidation into his voice as he can muster even as his hands shake.

"That is a bread knife, Baekhyun," the man seems to be trying to hold back laughter. "Even if you could harm me through physical means, that wouldn't do it."

Baekhyun grumbles, before his eyes widen. "How do you know my name?"

"I always know the name of the homemaker, it's customary. I just hadn't anticipated getting to see you after waiting so long," he walks forward again with great speed, and the knife slips from Baekhyun's hand.

This close, Baekhyun is struck by how handsome the man is - his features, though contrasting, work together perfectly: gentle eyes hooded by strong eyebrows, and angular nose above plush lips. Had this not been a life-or-death situation, Baekhyun may have considered the man his type. "I'm calling the police," Baekhyun says, scrambling in his pockets for his phone.

The stranger smirks, though more innocently amused than sadistic. "You can try," he says, but his voice rings more warm than Baekhyun anticipates.

Suddenly there are footsteps in the hall and Baekhyun's fingers fumble the phone in his hands. Mr Jung stands in the doorway of the kitchen, heaving a little. "Sorry to intrude like this, son," he says, shuffling forward with a box of something in hand, which he places squarely on the bench in the middle of the room, as if absolutely nothing is going on. "The Mrs insisted, so we got some sirutteok for you. I have to say, we didn't expect to make any more of these in our lifetime."

Baekhyun watches, frozen, as the stranger hurries over to examine the now opened box of red bean sirutteok, and he leans into it to inspect the scent, poking his finger into one of the rice cakes to check the texture before giving said finger a lick, after which his face lights up. "Now this is an offering. Tell this man thank you." He pats Mr Jung pretty hard on the shoulder, but the old man shows no reaction at all, not even a shift of his eyes in even the direction he's standing in. "I'll make this quick for you, he cannot see me," the stranger says, watching for when Mr Jung looks away to unceremoniously place an entire tteok in his mouth. "Neither can anyone else. Only the homemaker can see me," his voice is muffled aroubd the food he's chewing, "and here that would be you."

Mouth slightly agape, Baekhyun walks a few steps to sit opposite Mr Jung at the bench. He looks between the two, still in disbelief. The tall stranger shrugs, standing up and stretching his arm up, bringing it down with such a force between the driver's shoulderblades that even the toughest warrior would have to flinch. And yet, nothing.

"Are you okay, son?" Mr Jung says, looking slightly concerned. "You seem awful dazed, ever since I got in here."

Baekhyun nods, his expression still a little hazy though. "Thank you Mr Jung, I'll enjoy these." He bows in his seat, and the old man belly laughs.

"You better. It's not everyday she makes these, so savour them while you can!" He stands, patting off his trousers from the dust. "I better get going, gotta keep watch at the station just in case, after all. See you later," he says, smacking Baekhyun relatively hard on the back as he leaves.

As soon as he's out of earshot, Baekhyun leans forward, his eyes narrowed and his voice low. "Explain to me what the fuck is going on right now."

"I'll do nothing of the sort if you keep using that language," the man says, leisurely biting into another piece of tteok. "This is a sacred place. Treat it as such."

Baekhyun breathes deeply, reasoning that there's no point extending this any further. "You appeared out of nowhere, and dressed like that," he gestures, and the man looks down at his lavish clothes. "Mr Jung couldn't see you for some reason, but you can touch things, so you aren't a ghost," he thinks aloud as he points to the tteok, steadily reducing in numbers.

He looks at Baekhyun, one eyebrow raised expectantly, as if waiting for him to remember something not only important, but obvious. That's easier said than done, though, and Baekhyun's patience is beginning to wear thin. This being can't be human, he thinks, and his doubts are confirmed when the stranger snaps his fingers, the fireplace alighting immediately. Baekhyun stares, wide-eyed, unable to look away from the flames even as he asks his new question. 

"What _are_ you?"


	2. Chapter 2

The crackling of embers lights up the silence between them. Baekhyun waits patiently for an answer to his question, but it seems the man either didn't hear him or didn't care enough to reply.

"I asked what you are," he says, tightening his fists by his sides before loosening them again, nails leaving temporary indents in his palms.

Looking between Baekhyun and the final piece of tteok in his hands, the mysterious stranger sighs, returning the rice cake to the box and turning to face Baekhyun directly, sitting with a perfect upright posture.

"I'm the god of the hearth of this house. I have been the resident god of this home ever since it was built." He bows formally, but when he straightens up again there's a tired look on his face. "Considering you clearly believe in me already and even performed my ritual, I didn't think I'd have to explain all this to you. Now I'm probably going to have to teach you the customs too, right?"

"What's this about believing you?" Baekhyun rises in his seat. "How do I know this isn't some elaborate prank?"

The man snaps his fingers again, and the fire extinguishes itself. "You saw the way that fellow earlier couldn't see me. And you can see the abilities I have. Moreover, who would know you're coming here today to pull this prank on you? This home has been vacant for some time, and nobody in the village knows you well enough to want to do that."

"That still doesn't mean I believe you though," Baekhyun pouts, arms crossed. "I'm not religious. It makes no sense for me to see a god."

"You wouldn't be able to see me at all if you truly believed nothing. Soonja used to tell you my stories when you were young, I remember," he says nonchalantly, checking his nails. "Those memories are still likely buried in your mind."

Freezing in place, Baekhyun feels the air catch in his throat. "How do you know about my grandma," he whispers.

"I told you, I have been living here for a long time. I knew your grandmother since she was a child, and once she became the homemaker of this place she could see me as well."

Baekhyun reaches over the table, grabbing his collar and pulling him up to meet his eyes. "Keep my grandmother out of this sick joke of yours."

The man's eyes shift from Baekhyun's eyes to the hand still gripping his clothing. "Soonja was always a stringent believer, and incredibly courteous. If she could see you acting like this towards me, she would be ashamed." He looks back up, and for the first time ever Baekhyun notices a strange sort of otherworldly light in the backs of the man's eyes, like flames dancing behind his irises. "Behave properly, for her sake at least."

Suddenly all the strength disappears from Baekhyun's hand, though not of his will. It's pointless denying it now - this man probably is exactly what he says. Racking his brain for the stories his grandmother used to tell him, eventually he resorts to simply asking. "You are a god of the home, but which one? There are several."

"I told you, I am the god of the hearth. As such I have dominion over all things of the kitchen, as well as control of fire," he picks up the tteok again, rolling it between his fingers as he leans his head against his other palm, obviously weary at having to explain himself. "The name humans for my kind in Korean is jowangsin."

The utterance of the name does spark the memory in Baekhyun, but his look of understanding soon turns to one of suspicion. "My grandmother always spoke of the jowangsin being women."

"We are divine beings," he scoffs, getting to his feet. "Such trivial things as gender don't really concern us. Now, for convenience, we would usually take the form aligning with that of the homemaker." He begins to pace around the room, hands held behind his back. "As the homemakers for centuries were almost always women, we appeared as women to make them feel more at ease. And so it was recorded that we are only ever women, when that was only circumstantially the case."

"Then you're here as a man now because I'm a man?"

He nods, stretching his arms out in front of him and examining himself smugly, robes hanging plushly. "I have never had the chance to take this form, so this too is quite exhilarating."

He feels a flush reach his face over what he's about to admit. "Just to let you know, I am attracted to men. So if you want to change to a female form-"

"You think none of the women in this house were attracted to me in my female form?" He stares past his hands and directly at Baekhyun, who has stiffened in his seat. "Don't concern yourself with me feeling comfortable. It won't be a problem. The more important matter at hand is whether or not you know my rules and rituals."

Still a little shocked at the nonchalance with which the god speaks, Baekhyun simply shakes his head no.

"It's quite simple. The kitchen is a sacred place, and it must be treated as such. So no foul language, no sitting or placing the feet on the hearth itself, and maintenance of cleanliness," he swipes a finger across the counter, sighing at the amount of dust now covering it. "Soonja was impeccable at these things, but since her passing nobody has come to uphold her efforts." He retrieves the tteok and unceremoniously pops it into his mouth, finishing chewing before speaking again. "Every morning, you must fill the bowl atop the hearth with clean water as an offering. The bottled water you offered today was adequate, though my preference will always be the water from the well outside," he points vaguely in the direction of the backyard. "On festival days, you must offer me homemade tteok. Such is the tradition your ancestors upheld, and now it is your turn."

Baekhyun stares at him, wide-eyed for a moment, before standing with a look of disbelief. "Listen, I can clean this kitchen for you if that's what you want, but I can't be doing all these extra things. I came here for my own work, not to serve some god I only just met."

The god looks absolutely scandalized. "Your grandmother-"

"My grandmother always espoused the virtues of focusing on finishing the work expected of you," Baekhyun says, raising his chin in defiance even as the man slowly but surely approaches him, fire in his eyes again. "Powers or not, I don't fear you. I have others I still answer to, and that's why I'm here. So, you- you, what's your name?"

The intensity dulls a little as he raises an eyebrow. "Name? I told you, we're jowangsin."

"That's your kind. What's your name?" He pokes him in his surprisingly firm chest, only to not receive an answer. "Well, I guess I'll have to give you one. Let's see," Baekhyun ponders.

"The previous homemakers called me "my lady" or "mistress", so you could probably call me sire or master if you wish to refer to me," the deity says, crossing his arms.

Baekhyun replicates the gesture, looking very unimpressed. "You may be a god, but I'm not here to serve you." The god's eyes spark again, and Baekhyun finally has something he likes the sound of. "Chanyeol," he says, only to be met with a look of fiery confusion. "I had a character with that name in one of my novels before I cut him out. Now you can have it."

"You're an author?" the god says, overcome with a childlike curiosity for a moment before snapping back into stern mode. "And why would I accept a second-hand name? If it has no meaning I don't want it."

"Well I'm not going to call you sire," Baekhyun scoffs. "And you remind me a lot of that character, I didn't just choose it at random. Accept it if you wish, you won't have to hear it often anyway. I'm here with work to do, and I'm going to keep to myself while doing it. You don't have to interact with me at all if you don't wish to." Pushing past the newly named Chanyeol, Baekhyun vacantly checks his pockets for his wallet. Walking to the convenience store after his tiring journey isn't ideal, but it's not like he has many options to order food out in the middle of the countryside.

"Where are you going," Chanyeol follows behind him quickly.

"To get food. I'm starving," Baekhyun replies off-handedly. He expects Chanyeol to stay behind when he closes the door, but he follows him right out. "You're a god of the home and now you're leaving it? Is that even allowed?"

"I'm still able to venture out for some time," he says. Baekhyun hadn't noticed it before, but Chanyeol walks incredibly smoothly, as if moving required no exertion of his muscles at all, if he even has muscles. If it wasn't for the solid crunch of his footsteps against the pebbles covering the ground, you'd assume he's floating. "House gods can be divide our attention between different places, even if we aren't there physically. My blessings are still present inside, but it's important for me to ascertain the kinds of things you'll be cooking in my domain."

"_Your _domain?" Baekhyun repeats under his breath, holding back the impulse to roll his eyes as he starts to walk. He pulls out his phone to check the directions.

"What is that?" Chanyeol says, suddenly directly behind him and peeking over his shoulder, cool breath just about felt on Baekhyun's neck.

Baekhyun stops in his place, but Chanyeol doesn't quite bump into him as any human would. "It's a smartphone," Baekhyun huffs. "My grandmother had a mobile phone, right? It's just a more advanced version of that, with more uses. More importantly," he says, starting to walk again, "we need to establish some rules about personal space. Don't just sneak up on me like that, and don't stick so closely to me."

In his peripheral vision, he notices Chanyeol raising an eyebrow with a small smirk. "You expect me to follow your rules but you easily dismissed mine. I think that's rather unfair, no?"

"My rules don't require effort on your part, and as such you have nothing to gain from acting this way," Baekhyun retorts, feeling redness rising up his neck. He stares out over the rice fields to distract himself, fixating on an old farmer tending to his crops, not so close that he can make out his features, but not so far that he'd not hear him if he happened to call out to him.

Suddenly a firm but gentle hand is grabbing the nape of his neck, stopping him in his tracks. Chanyeol, when confronted, simply gestures downwards with his eyes, where a fresh cow pat lay right in Baekhyun's way, mere inches from his feet, sure to be stepped on had he not been stopped. "The proximity can be mutually beneficial," Chanyeol sing-songs as he walks on ahead, not looking back. "Especially since you seem so out of it in this environment."

"You didn't have to do that," Baekhyun huffs, sidestepping the dung and hurrying his legs to match the god's pace. "I'm an adult. If I stepped on it I'd be at fault, and I'd deal with the consequences."

"Let you step on it and then risk you walking into my kitchen like that? Absolutely not," Chanyeol turns, keeping tempo even backwards, almost as if to taunt the human. "That house is not just your own. Learn to be considerate of the others living there."

Baekhyun is about to retort with something along the lines of _listen to your own advice_, when he realises they've already reached the convenience store. Compared to all the houses he saw on the way to his grandparent's place, the 7/11 is situated in a relatively modern building - though no newer than the 80s, that is. Three steps up and a door - manual, unlike the automatic doors he takes for granted in Seoul - he's finally at his destination. The interior looks pretty standard, though definitely a lot more cramped than he's used to. An elderly woman sits at the till, looking up from the newspaper she's completing the crosswords in when Baekhyun walks in.

"Well hello there dear!" she says, piping up significantly. "Aren't you a handsome young man. What brings you all the way out here in the country?"

Baekhyun bows, not sure whether to walk up to her or whether that would be too intimidating. Frankly, he's too tired to be thinking through any of these decisions at the moment. "I just moved into one of the homes here temporarily, I'm Soonja's grandson-"

"Oh silly me, Youngsook did mention earlier that she made some tteok for you - though I didn't imagine you'd be so good-looking! I probably ought to make you some tteok as well, right? Good hospitality and everything."

He's about to politely decline when he distinctly feels Chanyeol elbow him in the side. He scowls up at him, but Chanyeol simply mouths for him to accept.

"Are you alright dear," the woman says, looking slightly weirded out by Baekhyun seemingly having a silent conversation with the air.

Baekhyun straightens up, putting on his best TV smile. Chanyeol simply watches him change, amused. "Yes ma'am. I'll gladly to accept your tteok if you offer it."

She chuckles. "Please please, Ma'am feels much too formal. Call me Granny Nam if you must. You're about the same as my own grandson, I think."

Nodding awkwardly, Baekhyun finally gets to start shopping. He immediately makes a beeline to the instant and microwaveable food section, where he starts picking up packs of instant ramyun and the like, only to hear Chanyeol's voice raise to a fever pitch.

"What are you doing? Don't tell me you plan to live off of these for the whole time you're staying?" He grabs the packets from Baekhyun's hands and holds them to his chest, absolutely scandalised. "I won't allow it."

"I barely ever cook at home anyways, and I'm even less confident with the type of kitchen we have here. And it's not like ordering in is an option either," Baekhyun murmurs matter-of-fact. He's getting incredibly tired of all of this, wondering whether he should just call it quits, pack up and return to Seoul with his head hung in shame.

"Feeding yourself well is incredibly important," Chanyeol says, returning the items to the shelves and blocking Baekhyun's reach, standing in front of him. Baekhyun averts his eyes. "The mind cannot work well unless the body is nourished. You said your grandmother taught you to finish the work expected of you," he says, knowing Baekhyun will look up with these words and focusing his gaze when he does. "You won't be able to complete your work to the best of your ability if you don't take care of yourself first."

After staring at him for a defiant second, Baekhyun sighs. "That's all well and good, but I still can't cook."

Chanyeol looks up past the top of Baekhyun's head, thinking for a moment, and then nods. "One meal a day, I will teach you how to cook. I will cook the other two meals for you."

Now it's Baekhyun's turn to raise an eyebrow. "That sounds too nice of you. What's the catch?"

"Do you remember those rituals I mentioned? Complete those for me and I'll do this for you. I think it's a much fairer deal than what you proposed earlier," he replies, grinning.

He pretends to think over it, but it's not like he really has much of a choice. Not to mention, getting free cooking lessons from a god might not be too bad.

Pulling out pre-made bulgogi rice packet he'd been concealing behind his back, Baekhyun returns it to where it came from, at which Chanyeol leans back against the shelves in satisfaction, finally giving Baekhyun some space to breathe. "I take that's a yes, then?"

Still feeling Chanyeol's expectant eyes dragging over him, Baekhyun huffs, feeling both flustered an agitated. "Just tell me what I need to buy."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually managed to write a whole new chapter with somehow MORE words than my first within the timeframe I promised? Wowie. I guess I was just feeling more inspired than I usually am - don't expect me to always be so good. I hope the length doesn't mean I just ended up waffling though... feedback is appreciated as always!


	3. Chapter 3

Baekhyun's eyes open at dawn, his body clock attuned to attend to the emails he receives every morning. Back when his first book was doing well, he used to wake up bursting with enthusiasm - these days he can barely sit up without a groan. He stares at his phone, which had been on Do Not Disturb since he had left home yesterday. Sighing, he toggles that option off.

Suddenly the notifications flood in. Calls from family, texts from friends, emails from work. Hesitating a moment, he opens one of the latter up. Yet again, his agent is berating him, reminding him of the looming deadline getting ever closer even while his work doesn't seem to be making any kind of progress. Once again she stresses his income problem - understandably, since she'll be out of a job soon unless Baekhyun actually starts selling books again. She's been with him from the start, and he's grateful, but the pressure from her, the publishers and everyone else recently has been so high that he half-thought about leaving writing altogether. If only he was remotely talented in some other field, he'd have probably jumped ship a long time ago. He turns Do Not Disturb back on, a headache settling into his exhaustion as he flops back into bed.

When he next awakens, it's to the sound of birds chirping outside his window, and the scent of freshly cooked rice wafting in through the hallways. He drags his feet up and out of his room, eventually leading him to the awning of the kitchen entrance, and he leans against the door frame, watching Chanyeol's back as he works.

His hands are swift, knowing exactly where to go and what to do at any given time. Every movement is deliberate and no time is wasted at all. Without looking up from what he's doing for even a moment, Chanyeol speaks. "Good morning, Baekhyun," he says, catching the human tenant by surprise.

"You didn't have to bother with breakfast, I usually skip it anyways," Baekhyun says, arms crossed, fighting back a yawn.

Chanyeol doesn't hesitate. "We made a deal, and our kind always follow our word." He strains some spinach, never turning around. "As is, you won't be able to focus on an empty stomach. And you don't have much weight on you to begin with."

"I just can't find the motivation when it's just me I have to feed," Baekhyun crosses his left foot over his right, tapping his heel on the door frame. "You know what, cancel the classes. I'll still do your rituals for you, but I'll manage my own meals."

"It's too late to back out now," Chanyeol says without missing a beat, cracking two eggs into a pan with one hand. "I've already ordered some new utensils as well as enough food supplies to last a while, they should be on their way from Miss Nam's store any minute," he turns with a couple plates in hand, setting them out on the table. "Breakfast is served."

Baekhyun walks up to the bench. "How did you order things?" he asks, a little annoyed. "You said only I can see and hear you."

"That device of yours which you showed me yesterday - smartphone, I think you called it? It's very convenient. I could send the message to Miss Nam with all the ingredients I needed just like that - and it's much easier to operate than a standard mobile phone." Chanyeol simply smiles sweetly at Baekhyun's dumbfounded look, before tapping the bench firmly. "Hurry, before the food gets cold, hm?"

Begrudgingly, Baekhyun sits. The spread in front of him is vast and varied, definitely bigger than his personal diet and even more than what his mother would make before he rushed off to school and she hurried out for work. Most days he feels he might not have the appetite to eat it all, but after the workout that was carrying all the ingredients home from the supermarket yesterday, he wolfs it down with little care for tact.

"You seemed tired yesterday, so I thought I'd make some extra for you. You get tired awfully easy," Chanyeol says, watching him. "That's why I decided to have the ingredients for the future delivered here. If all your energy from the food goes to carrying ingredients and not to writing, that would be a waste, wouldn't it?"

Chopsticks halting, Baekhyun looks up at Chanyeol for a moment. "You sounded just like my grandmother just then," he smiles a little, before tucking back into the meal, leaving Chanyeol with an expression of pained surprise. "This is incredible," he says between mouthfuls, hoping a compliment will ease the tension. "But I guess I shouldn't have expected less from a god of the kitchen."

"Baekhyun," the hearth god says, tone now more serious than before, "How much do you remember her?"

"Not enough," Baekhyun laughs a little under his breath. "When I was a child we'd come here every Chuseok. She was an amazing cook, though I realise now she probably had some help," he says, and Chanyeol can't help but chuckle. "And she would tell me stories. Every time I'd have trouble sleeping, she'd come and sit by my bedside and tell me a story, and she'd say, 'the more they're told the more real they become'. I guess those stories are why I can see you now."

"Baekhyun," the god says, slowly reaching a hand out towards the human's face.

He hadn't realised when he'd started crying, and the thought of how embarrassingly weak he must look still lingers in the back of his brain, but he can't help but lean into Chanyeol's warm touch, like the embers still floating around a recently extinguished fireplace.

Chanyeol says nothing, simply wiping the tears away as they fall. "I must thank her then," he says, softly. "Her stories gave me another chance." He closes his eyes, putting his palms together, focusing intensely.

Baekhyun had never believed in ghosts, or any kind of afterlife, but he desperately wants to now. "Can you speak to her?"

The god smiles, shaking his head a little, still with his hands together and eyes closed. "That world is out of my jurisdiction, as long as I have my power. When there's no one to perform my rituals though, I can hear it, louder and louder the longer it goes on. Just before you arrived, it was the loudest it's ever been, and I could barely hear this world at all." He opens his eyes, but doesn't look up at Baekhyun again. "I heard her, then. Your grandmother. And her mother, and her mother, and every homemaker of this house. I couldn't speak to her directly even then, but it seemed like she could sense me at least. So I try to reach out to her every now and then."

There's barely a moment for what he said to register. The bell rings, and Baekhyun stands abruptly, rubbing at his eyes with his sleeves and doing his best to look presentable. "Your deliveries must have arrived," he says, trying to force himself back into the rival-like atmosphere they had before, to forget about the vulnerability he just showed. He rushes to the door, and Chanyeol follows, though a considerable distance behind and with a concerned expression. Once Baekhyun's patted his bedhead down and made sure he has no food stuck on his face, he opens the door.

"Delivery for Byun Baekhyun," the man announces. He definitely doesn't look like a standard delivery driver, what with the immaculately fitted navy suit he's wearing, nor his perfectly coiffed hair in place of a uniform hat.

Baekhyun is understandably surprised, but not as much as the man seems to be when finally laying eyes on him.

He looks at his phone, and then back up at Baekhyun in disbelief. "I can't believe it, it really is you," he exclaims. "I thought my grandmother just misremembered the name - with her age it happens a lot - but it's really you! I'm a huge fan of your work," the man says, shaking Baekhyun's hand. When Baekhyun only stares back in stunned silence, he seems to collect himself a little. "Sorry, where are my manners," he bows apologetically. "My name is Nam Joohyuk, I'm the grandson of Nam Hwasung who runs the supermarket nearby. I'm here to handle some property matters but I usually live in Seoul. It's a pleasure to meet you," he says, holding out his hand this time seeking permission for a formal handshake.

"Likewise," Baekhyun says, unable to stop the smile on his face, taking the hand and not missing the way Joohyuk's hold eases from practiced and formal into one of flirtatious interest. He reciprocates with a curious raise of his brow; Joohyuk is very good looking and likes his writing - both qualities Baekhyun looks for in a fling. "Well, it's a shame your first meeting with me had to be when I look like this, he gestures to himself, inviting the other to look him up and down, which he does. "I'm sorry, I only recently woke up."

"No problem at all," he says, shaking his head. "It's an honour to even meet you in the first place - what brings you out here in the middle of nowhere?"

"Ah, well, this is technically a secret," he says, before leaning in to whisper in Joohyuk's ear as if there's anyone around to eavesdrop. "I'm working on a new novel and I needed a little change of scenery."

"I see," he says. "That's understandable. I can imagine Seoul isn't the best place for quiet work. It's a growing problem I've noticed, people aren't able to find a peaceful spot to de-stress so many of them come out here to the countryside. But unfortunately these areas aren't always equipped to city standards," he says, smacking his palm against the wall a few times. "That's actually the business I'm in, rural redevelopment. Here's my company card, if you're ever interested."

Baekhyun accepts the classy-looking card, turning it over.

"My personal number is on there too," Joohyuk adds smoothly. "If you ever need me."

"I'll keep that in mind," Baekhyun smirks, when suddenly he hears someone clear their throat behind him. "So, the delivery?" He says, throwing Chanyeol a brief dirty look over his shoulder.

Chanyeol, similarly looks equally judgemental, sidling up to Baekhyun once Joohyuk is out retrieving the items from his car. "Could you both be more brash? What happened to the art of courtship?"

"Who has time for all that nowadays," Baekhyun whispers. "Besides, it's not like we're looking for anything serious. I'm pretty sure he just wants a good time, as do I."

Chanyeol looks a little scandalized for a second, his ancient sensibilities clearly being challenged. "Well if you change your mind," he starts once he collects himself, "the best way to a man's heart is his stomach, after all."

Baekhyun goes to elbow him but he dodges artfully, just in time for Joohyuk to enter the kitchen with a tall pile of boxes in tow, unaware of Chanyeol's sudden intense focus on every step he takes. "There's a lot of ingredients and utensils here. Do you enjoy cooking?"

Chanyeol stops glaring for a second to scoff, Baekhyun ignores it. "I'm not sure if I'd say that yet," he says. "But I guess you could say I'm learning to love it."

"You must love to jump into the deep end with things, then," he laughs through a pained expression as he lowers a box of supplies to the floor.

Baekhyun smiles back, though wincing on the inside about the thought of how much all this would be costing him. He'll have to have a word with Chanyeol about expenses later.

"Well I hope you treat me to your homemade food at some point Mr Byun," he takes a deep breath with his hands on his hips, taking in the lingering aroma of breakfast. "It smells absolutely divine."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much for consistent updates right? Yeah, I failed at that resolution pretty badly, so I'm not going to make any more promises about when I'm updating just so I don't contradict myself. Since my last update (when I was on summer vacation and basically at home most of the time) I started a full-time job as part of my placement. In recent times, I've picked up a fic for a fest, and almost all of my inspiration has been poured into that fic. This one is still my baby though, and I do love these characters and this world, so I'm not giving up on it just yet - it'll probably just have shorter updates from now on though, until I get my free time back. I hope you can be patient with me in the meantime, and thank you to anyone who stuck around!


End file.
